


Domina

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient Rome was a terrible place friends, Anonymous Sex, Domina Hermione Granger, Dominus/Domina, Dubious Consent, Evil Author Day, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gladiator AU, Gladiator Draco Malfoy, It Cannot Be Overstated That The Themes Are Dark And It's Ancient Rome Sooooo, Master/Servant undertones, Pompeii AU, Preview of Upcoming Works, Servant Hermione Granger, This premise is so problematic, ancient rome au, authors note with more detail about non-con, masked sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29466555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: She was all his, standing all but bare before him, the sound of her breathing the only noise in the room.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	Domina

**Author's Note:**

> What you're about to read is the start of a Dramione Ancient Rome AU - which takes place in 79 A.D. Draco is a gladiator, Hermione is a prized servant (who is masqueraded as his Domina in this specific snippet). It's intensely problematic, as it follows traditional ancient Rome life and so all the tags that go with it cannot be understated. This little snip deals with extreme dubious consent (the parties are anonymous, and are effectively bade to sleep with one another in masks hiding their identities). I've tagged the story for non-con for safety purposes - there _is_ consent, but only so far as servants _can_ consent, which is arguably minimal/none.
> 
> SO. I'm scared and throwing this out there and then running to hide, haha.

There she was: a plainly decorated, golden mask covering most of her face, a mane of brunette curls strategically staged around her shoulders in tidy ringlets, and little left to the imagination as her sheer teal gown flowed like water over every curve of her tight body. And she was all his, standing all but bare before him, the sound of her breathing the only noise in the room.

To their side, a four-poster bed draped in burnt orange fabric. The bed was not visible until she pulled back the material to reveal golden-hued sheets and ornate, decorative pillows. He stood still, mask the only article covering his flesh, as her dark eyes surveyed him from behind her mask. The flicker of torchlight glimmered off her eyes, revealing every lazy pass of her eyes over his cock.

“Come forward,” she commanded, flicking one finger out to beckon him so.

Draco obeyed immediately, crossing the room in only a few long strides. Though he wasn’t disclosed her identity, a woman draped in such luxury must come with status. “Domina,” he whispered, lacing as much confidence into his words as possible.

For deep down, he was shaking with unease. This beautiful creature before him deserved much better than what he could provide. He had no riches, no title, no land. But, Draco had his passion, and for now that’s what he would use to see her satisfied.

Petite fingers traced along the smooth surface of his mask, slipping over the angular cheek and dipping under the sharp chin. She leaned forward, breasts and perky nipples on display as if to entice his mouth. “Undress me.”

Raising his hands slowly, Draco brought them to the ties on her shoulders, unraveling them one at a time until the fabric cascaded from her body and pooled at the concrete floor at her feet. She was a thing of beauty, art personified. Every sweet curve invited his touch and yet, he paused, awaiting permission.

“Are you excited by my body, gladiator?” She asked, toeing herself back until she hit the bed, and then lowering herself onto it in such an erotic display that his cock stiffened painfully.

Draco yearned to grasp himself in a tight fist. To show her exactly how excited her taut, delicious body made him. And still, he paused, knowing her question wasn’t one that demanded an answer. He wanted to lick the salt from her skin, desired nothing more than to flip her onto her knees and pound into her hot, waiting core until she screamed for him to release inside of her.

As Champion of Pompeii, Draco had shared in his delight of women. They’d rode atop him, sang beneath him, and begged for more after he’d spilt himself inside them. This was different. While he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine who he wanted her to be, who all the women he’d fucked had not lived up to. And while it was unlikely to be  _ her _ beneath the mask, some part of him decided to take her as if she were—the anticipation caused a dribble of come to seep from his cock.

“What would you do to me?” she asked, lifting her delicate and manicured fingers to her stiff nipples. Tugging them gently, the masked woman gasped. “If you had free rein—what would you do?”

He croaked, voice hoarse and broken at such a display. Her slit weeping, glistening off the torchlight and filling the air around them with heady scent. “I—“

“Don’t speak,” she demanded as she trailed her fingers lower, between the valley of her breasts, over the flat expanse of her stomach, and through the thatch of soft brown curls nestled neatly over her mound. “Just do. Take from me what you want, gladiator.”

No hesitation. Draco moved with purpose, strong legs carrying him across the gap and onto the firm bedding where she lay with her fingers between her thighs. He shoved them away as he crawled between her legs, lifting her knees over his shoulders, and holding tight to hips so she couldn’t thrash away from him. With one swipe of his tongue along her folds, she bucked and cried out; the sound a symphony to his ears that encouraged him onward to take her like a thirsty man might desperately seek water.

Curling his fingers into the soft flesh on her hips, he knew he’d bruise her with his strength and yet the way her legs collapsed over his head meant he didn’t care what color her skin was tomorrow. For now, he sought her pleasure, driving forward with his tongue in tight, circular motions until she was gasping and crying out under his tongue. With two fingers spreading her open, he chased her orgasm with varying swipes, speed increasing as her hands found purchase on his head and pressed him harder against her core.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed heavily, curling her fingers into his long hair and yanking at the roots. The pain drove him onward, more forcefully sucking at her tightening flesh. “Gods—Gods—Gods.”

He smirked against her and gripped her harder still. Holding her tightly in place, he refused to allow her to ride herself into her orgasm, and instead tortured her by slowing his pace.

“Let me have you,” she begged, and he still didn’t relent his ministrations, instead pushing deeper and harder, circling her little bundle of nerves in vast, sweeping motions. “Your tongue is divine.”

She came undone not a moment later, her breath echoing off the stone walls. Lifting his head, Draco watched in wonder as her eyes fluttered closed and her chest rise and fell under the weight of her orgasm. He gave her only a moment to recover as he crawled over her body, gripped his straining erection in his fist and lined it up at her quivering cunt.

Draco sheathed himself in one movement, groaning as she took him to the hilt and clenched around his sensitive skin. Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, he shuddered and listened to her hitched breathing as he slowly withdrew and slammed himself in once again.

“Fuck me.” Her hands found the sinewy flesh of his back. Fingers digging into the muscle, the woman’s nails scraped trails from shoulder to arse as she cried out. His hips snapped at the feel, balls tightening with every thrust forward. “Harder—harder.”

Like a chant in his ears—so similar to that which he heard in the arena—Draco hinged on every breathy demand. As she came around him, he grunted and spilled himself far sooner than he would have liked.

Still, she quaked around him. Whimpers filled the room, drowned out only by the sound of footsteps.

“Gladiator.” 

It was a new voice, far more imposing and far less sexy than that of the woman beneath him. Draco’s body stiffened, the freshly relaxed muscles tensed and waiting instruction. Turning his masked face over his shoulder, still with his arse bare and his softened length still buried in her, Draco watched as the figure approached. Shrouded in Rome’s finest garb, silk and metal alike, the tall man stepped forward with sure footing and a thin grimace on his sour face.

“You are required at the baths presently,” he said forcefully in a clipped tone. “Withdraw and join your Dominus.”

His  _ Dominus _ . The term thrust him away from post-coital satisfaction and towards icy hatred. Tense, corded muscles flexed as Draco slid himself from her encompassing warmth.

“Gladiator.” He turned to find her dark eyes fixed on his bronzed skin. “I do hope we meet again.”

Though she couldn’t see it, he smirked. “If the Gods will it, Domina.”

He was led from the room without another word, figure—including his rather sizable cock—entirely on display as he strode purposefully through the villa.

“You called her Domina,” his guard hedged curiously as they turned a corner towards his Dominus’ reception room. “Are you so sure she is not a servant?”

“The flesh of her hips tells a different story.” Flashes of her body writhing beneath his, of her fingers digging into his painted body, of his hands bruising her flesh as he drove hard into her. Draco found his first true smile that day. “They tell of a well-fed woman. A servant does not receive such hearty nutrition.”

“There is yet one in Cicero’s employ whose body is full.” The guard halted his steps outside the reception room and placed a hand on Draco’s chest to stop him going in. He removed the mask from Draco’s face and searched his eyes for a moment, lowering his voice.

“This house does not forgive a gladiator showing loyalty to another Dominus. I pray you think wisely when you next fuck a masked woman and claim her Domina.”

Draco knew the one; the girl who often haunted his dreams, and the fantasies he conjured while seeking release late at night. A bitter laugh stung his lips. “Dominus would never allow his most precious servant to become defiled by a gladiator.”

Without another word, Draco yanked his mask from the guard’s hands and held it to his side as he entered the presence of his master.

Cicero Marius Maximus was a tall man with slight muscles—enough to boast minimal training—draped in a tunic dyed with lavender, which added a sheen of brightness to his hazel eyes. Draco considered him a handsome man, one whose wife wouldn’t stray with complaint of her husband’s looks. Cruel though he could be, his Dominus was also charming with enough gold coin to make up for his foul temper.

“Ah, Draco.” Cicero held his defined arms wide in greeting. He always wore the same secretive smile hiding the shadow of his true nature. “I trust you’ve enjoyed the spoils of battle? Was her cunt to your liking?”

Though Draco had no qualms regarding the woman he was bade to lie with, if he had, voicing them to Cicero would result in disfavor. Lifting his chin, Draco replied evenly. “It was, Dominus.”

Cicero’s smile widened as he turned towards wine and poured two glasses. “The Gods yet favor you,” he said, handing Draco a dark red wine. “Rome has finished construction of a new Amphitheatre. In light of your recent victory in the arena, Galba seeks to present you for Primus in Capua.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Evil Author's Day, my friends! EAD is such a treat for authors - we get to share with you the things in our folders, things we've been working on behind the scenes: upcoming projects, pet projects, little snippets we've stored away to dig into once our WIPs are done.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think, as this is set to be my next big project after finishing my current WIPs. :)


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